Shakin' Hands
by StargazerLily714
Summary: In Belfast, Jax learns that he isn't the only one that has physical and emotional scars that serve as constant reminders of an outlaw upbringing. Jax/Tara Jax/OC.
1. Far Too Pretty To Be Giving It Cheap

** Disclaimer** I don't own Sons of Anarchy. My name isn't Kurt Sutter. Christ, I wish it was.

He closed his eyes, let his head fall against the pillow and sighed. Heavily. He tried to slow the emotions that still coursed through his body. His desperation to hold his son. His nagging need for a cigarette. His mounting concern for his fugitive mother. His insane need for a cigarette His blind rage for Cameron. His barley tolerable need for a cigarette His growing annoyance with Tara. His unbearable fucking need for a god damn cigarette. He groaned and punched the back of the seat in front of him, thankful it was empty.

"Easy there, Champ" said a smooth alto voice.

He let his head fall to the right, towards the direction of the voice. She was sitting in the seat directly across the aisle from him and was watching him intently with bright green eyes and full lips pulled into a sideways smirk. He smirked back, for two reasons. One, she was easy on the eyes. Two, he was Jackson Teller and it was a reaction as natural to him as breathing whenever he encountered reason one.

"Sorry, Darlin." He said huskily as he extended a hand. "Jax"

"Ryan", She took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Jax pulled back as soon as he felt something between their hands. He looked into his palm to find a shiny foil bubble pack. Nicotine gum. He laughed and shot her a glance. She had turned her attention back to the laptop on the tiny tray table in front of her.

"How'd you know?" he asked, popping two pieces free of their plastic confines and into his mouth.

"Lucky guess" Her eyes didn't leave the screen and her typing didn't slow.

"Nah" He shook his head, casually throwing the remaining gum on top of the duffel bag that occupied the window seat to his left and settling his head back into the pillow.

"A Masters in psychology."

"Ah, that would do it" he murmured. He let his eyes focus on the tiny screen embedded in the seat back in front of him. He watched a few minutes of the movie he had been ignoring for the majority of the flight, allowing the nicotine from the gum to calm his craving, his nerves and his thoughts. He was feeling a great deal more like himself when he let his head fall to the right, again. She was still typing on the laptop, though it seemed the more her focus increased the more the distance between her and the screen decreased. Her long hair had fallen forward over her shoulder, forming a light brown curtain that blocked her face from view. He looked her over and realized how completely out of it he must have been when he boarded, the girl was a knockout. She was lean, with an ample chest, noticeable even in her black, loose fitting scoop neck tee. She sat on one of her long, dark washed skinny jean clad legs, while she bounced her free knee to an unheard beat. The foot Jax could see was bare and perfectly pedicured, a gemstone sparkling on each french tipped toe. He caught a glimpse of a dangerously high, dangerously thin black heel with a red sole under the seat in front of her. He recognized it as some fancy french designer that Wendy had hinted she wanted at one point in their relationship. He had shot her down once he had found out the cheap pairs went for seven bills.

"So, what do you do with a Master's in psychology?"

She tossed her long hair back over her shoulder and met his gaze. Her eyes were a light, bright green and almost too big for her heart shaped face. Her nose turned up slightly, and had a splatter of freckles across the bridge.

"You mean other than diagnose addicts on trans-Atlantic flights?" She retorted, flashing him a smile that exposed a dimple in each cheek and very straight, very white teeth. A great deal of time, money and thought went into Ryan's appearance and the fact wasn't lost on Jax. Just because he spent forty hours a week holding a power tool and wearing a shirt with his embroidered on the front, didn't mean he couldn't recognize or appreciate someone who was as well put together as Ryan. He smiled sheepishly at the addict comment.

"Yeah, besides that."

She shifted in her seat, and withdrew her leg from under her body. She stretched both of her legs out in front of her, having to angle them under the seat in order to have the space to do so.

"I'm kind of a sex therapist." she replied, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her shoulder. She glanced up at him, smiling sheepishly, a light blush starting to spread across her cheeks. Jax's mouth feel open slightly making her laugh. "Yeah, I get that reaction a lot."

"No, no, I'm just..." Jax found her laugh infectious and laughed at his own stutter while he searched for the words he wanted.

"The Vice President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, Redwood Original?"

Jax stopped laughing. He was surprised that the handful of other passengers scattered throughout the first class cabin, didn't shift uncomfortably in their seats as the change in the atmosphere was palpable. Her green eyes were still on him, her smile had returned to a smirk and the blush was rapidly fading from her cheeks, as she watched him intently. He inhaled deeply and sat up in his chair. He leaned towards her and fixed her with his most alluring smile

"You got a last name, Ryan?" he asked, still kind, but firm. She mimicked his action, leaning towards the aisle between and and turning up to corners of her slightly parted lips.

"Doesn't everyone?" she asked coyly, in a low voice. Suddenly, it became clear to Jax that he might not be able to woe information out of this woman.

"You gonna share it with me?"

"Absolutely not."

His nostrils flared and he sat back against his chair in a huff. He was starting to become annoyed with his current position. He had ten minutes, tops, until they landed in London, where the rest of Sam Cro was gathering, preparing to travel to Glasgow. They had traveled separately out of the states on bogus passports, to avoid being flagged by the ATF. He didn't have his cut, his gun, or his knife, so he had no idea how this dame had so easily identified him. He glanced sideways at her again. She had leaned back into her seat as well, but was still watching him intently. Still smirking. Foot still bouncing. Fingers slowly drumming against the arm rest, manicured nails clicking.

"You've heard of the Sons, then?" He asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"I've heard of SAMCRO" she specified.

A chime sounded as the seat belt sign turned on. A stewardess was addressing the plane, letting the passengers know they were making their decent into London.

"Spent some time in Northern Cali, did ya?" he pried, as she shut the lid on her laptop and slid it into the bag in the seat next to her.

"Born and raised." she told him over her shoulder as she fiddled with the clasp on her bag. With her turned away from him Jax had no choice but to notice that her shirt was backless. Her exposed back sported three circular scars closely grouped on her left shoulder. Jax immediately recognized them as bullet wounds.

The tires of the plane met tarmac. Again the stewardess was on the PA, welcoming everyone to Heathrow and giving connection information. Ryan was facing forward again, retriving her shoes from under the seat in front of her with her feet, and sliding her arms into a black twill mechanics jacket.

"Where about" Jax asked through slightly clenched teeth. This game of vague answers was wearing thin on his patience.

"Charming"

The cabin burst into activity as the seat belt sign was turned off and people began collecting their belongings.

"Bullshit" he almost shouted as he stood. She was already on her feet, retrieving her rolling suitcase from the overhead bin. She set the suitcase down and turned to face him, eyes narrowed. Jax noticed that she was almost eye level with him.

"Really?" she said, annoyance clear in her voice.

"Yeah."

"There are almost fifteen thousand people who reside in Charming city limits, Teller. You really think you know them all?" she asked sharply.

"I didn't tell you my last name"

"No, you didn't" she agreed grabbing the handle of her suitcase and walking away from him down the aisle, leaving Jax groping across his seat for his duffel bag. A group of teenaged tourists cut in front of him, and meandered slowly down the aisle. As soon as they reached the jetway, he dashed around them, hurling a few choice obscenities over his shoulder at them. He didn't need this. His main focus need to be getting his son back. He didn't have time to deal with some random stranger who knew too much, but an upbringing in an outlaw lifestyle had taught him better. You didn't leave lose ends, or sure as shit they would come back to bite you in the ass. He hit the terminal at a run, skidded to a stop, his trademark white tennis shoes squeaking against the linoleum. His eyes darted around the terminal, looking for Ryan or at least a group of men gawking after her general direction. He was out of luck, there was no sign of her.


	2. That's Why She's Making Six Figures

**Chapter 2: That's Why She's Making Six Figures**

McGee yelled something unintelligible, a large smile upon his face, his arms outstretched. The men of Sam Cro looked to Chibs.

"He said, 'Welcome to Belfast!'" Chibs sighed around his cigarette He wasn't looking forward to constantly interpreting. His club mates nodded, and Clay stepped forward to embrace McGee.

"Wish we could have made the trip on better terms" Clay said when the embrace broke. The smile fell from McGee's face and he nodded solemnly. He replied with another unintelligible phrase followed by a sigh. Again, the members of Sam Cro looked to Chibs.

"For the love of Christ, Shamus! Can you tone down your accent? The boys can't understand a bloody thing your sayin'" Chibs bellowed, leaning up against a pillar and taking a long annoyed drag of his cigarette McGee let out a hearty laugh and repeated himself.

"I just said I can't imagine losing one of my boys. We'll make sure the bastard gets a proper floggin'" McGee said, his accent still heavy but his words now understandable.

"He'll get a hell of a lot more than a floggin'" Jax growled from where he stood near the sliding doors of the Belfast International Airport. There was a chorus of agreements ranging from the simple to the vulgar, all coming from the Son's that were scattered between the curb and the entrance to the airport, some sitting on their duffel bags while others were leaning against pillars or walls. Almost all were smoking.

"Aye!" McGee agreed heartily and then turned to face the curb, "speaking of boys, here's mine" A black van pulled up to the curb and parked behind the one McGee had arrived in. A tall, broad shouldered man climbed out of the driver seat, while a slightly shorter, lankier man jumped out of the passenger side.

"What the bloody hell took you two so long?" McGee barked playfully clamping the taller, broader man on the shoulder He then turned to Clay, "Clay, this is my son Fionn."

"Sam Bell Sargent at Arms, right?" Clay asked holding out his hand.

"Aye, Sir" Fionn replied with a proud smile and an accent nowhere near as heavy as his father's. He reached out and grasped Clay's hand and gave it a firm shake. McGee had no real need to introduce Fionn as his son. It was visually apparent. The two had the same shade of red hair, the same pale, freckled skin and even though Fionn stood a good six inches or so above his father and had a flat stomach where his father was sporting a slight beer gut, they had the same stance. They also had the same bright blue eyes, the only difference being McGee's were locked on Clay, while Fionn's had just shot to the sliding doors just behind Jax. Jax had heard the doors slide open, although it had sounded far away. He had moved to sitting on his duffel, smoking and staring at the sidewalk in front of him, lost in a daydream about what he was going to do to Cameron Hayes when he found him. He heard the click of high heels, but it wasn't until the black peep toe pumps with the red soles walked through his line of vision that his head snapped up.

"Teller" She greeted him in a low sultry voice, shooting him a quick wink and her sideways smirk , before she continued past him. Jax rose to his feet and walked slowly after her until he came even with Opie, who was leaning against a nearby pillar.

"What's up?" Opie asked, ashing his cigarette and watching Ryan walk away from them.

"It's nothing, she just sat next to me on the flight to London." Jax replied casually dismissing Opie's concern. Ryan made her way through the pack of bikers, her hips swaying, the angry red scars on her left shoulder momentarily visible, then hidden again by her long, light brown hair as it bounced lightly against her back with each step.. As she passed Tig, he let out a low whistle, that caused Chibs to look back over his shoulder

"Kitten" Chibs purred as Ryan approached him, a smile spreading across his heavily scared face as he immediately recognized her.

"Telford" she replied, purring herself and resting a hand suggestively on Chibs' hip. "It's a pleasure to see you, again." Chibs offered her his cigarette , but she declined it with a shake of her head.

"I assure you, love, the pleasure is all mine." he told her in a low voice, teasingly giving her a once over that caused her to laugh.

"Kitten!" McGee bellowed joyfully, alerted to Ryan's presence by her laugh. Leaving Clay, he bounded towards her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up off the ground and spun her in a large circle. Clay moved slightly towards the two as Tig appeared at his shoulder.

"Who's the dame?" Clay asked watching McGee's antics

"No idea, but Christ I bet I could have a damn fine time finding out." Tig replied, a hand on his crotch. Clay shot him a sideways look from behind his sunglasses.

"Jesus, Tigger!" Clay chuckled shaking his head.

"What?" Tig asked genuinely surprised by Clay's look of disgust. Ryan was still laughing and took a moment to find her balance on top of her five inch heels when McGee finally deposited her back on the ground. McGee immediately turned to Clay

"Clay Morrow, I'd like you to meet Olivia O'Ryan." McGee said beaming, one of his hands on the small of Ryan's back.

"Please Mr. Morrow, call me Ryan." Ryan insisted, stepping forward and extending her hand.

"Ryan." He agreed shaking her hand as the rest of the son's fell into a circle around the two. "While it's a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart, I'm afraid where here on very important business, so whatever reminiscing you need to do with McGee is going to have to wait-"

"Oh, rest assured, Mr. Morrow, I know all about the appalling actions of Cameron Hayes and I'm here to assist in the safe recovery of your grandson, Abel" Ryan interjected professionally.

"How the fuck does she know so much" Jax shouted angrily at McGee from where he had fallen in next to Clay.

"Calm down, Teller." Ryan snapped, annoyed at Jax's outrage, before looking sideways at Chibs, " Telford, I'll take you up on that cigarette" Jax looked as though Ryan had slapped him across the face. His mouth fell open for a split second, however his jaw was firmly set and he was silently fuming by the time Chibs pulled his lighter away from Ryan's cigarette.

"Truly, laddy, you can trust this one. Loyal as she is beautiful." McGee assured Jax quietly, trying to kill the tension. "Lethal too." he added under his breath.

"It's true. My family has deep personal ties with the McGees and I myself have a very strong business affiliation with Sam Bell. I have assisted on multiple occasions with the..." She paused, waving her hand absentmindedly while she searched for the word she wanted, "... removal, of many high profile people-"

"Men", growled Fionn from the other side of Tig. Ryan shot him a piercing look but continued.

"with anti-IRA agendas." She returned her gaze to Clay, smiled and took another drag from her cigarette

"How?" Tig asked. He was always curious about violence.

"Well, my career provides me access to people-"

"Men" Fionn growled again, slightly louder this time. Ryan blinked, but her gaze didn't leave Clay this time

" in a time where their at their most vulnerable. Once I work my way to that very _intimate_" she said the last word very slowly, shooting a smoldering sideways glace at Fionn "moment, taking someone else life is simple." She finished her sentence with a causal shrug. "At the risk of sounding conceited, I dare say I have a gift."

"gift?" Fionn snorted. Ryan flicked her nearly devoured cigarette in his general direction.

"She's has some real high profile hits under her belt, Clay. Her whole gimmick has never failed-" McGee boasted before Clay held up his hand stopping him mid sentence.

"Your career?" Clay asked.

"Well, of course, Mr. Morrow." Ryan smirked, "I'm a whore."


End file.
